


That I then scorn to change my state with kings

by LilithReisender



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley is bad with words, Day Five Prompt: Trip/Drive/Destination, Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, M/M, Post-Apocawasn't, Shakespeare, Shakespeare Sonnets - Freeform, Sonnet 29, They have some stuff to figure out but they're getting there, ineffable husbands, picninc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 05:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithReisender/pseuds/LilithReisender
Summary: Written for Ineffable Husbands Week 2019Day Five Prompt: Trip/Drive/DestinationSummary: Crowley had planned out everything, which of course meant that anything that could have gone wrong had done so.





	That I then scorn to change my state with kings

Crowley had planned out everything, which of course meant that anything that could have gone wrong had done so.

Crowley had planned to take them to St. James’s, so they could talk about- things. About what had happened after the apocalypse hadn’t happened. But the moment that Crowley had tried stepped out of the Bentley it had begun to rain in a nonstop downpour that was so intense Crowley couldn’t even miracle himself dry.

So that plan was out the window.

His next plan was to bring them to the Ritz. They had done that before- many times over, but Crowley was determined to make this time different. _Special_, dare he say it. He would seat them at a private table in a corner and they would talk and Aziraphale would take a ridiculous amount of time eating his food, and then he would steal some of Crowley’s, which was fine with him as long as he got to see the angel’s eyes close as he made that little noise of delight that always happened when he was enjoying something. And then Aziraphale would set his hand on the table and Crowley would take it, intertwining their fingers the way Aziraphale had done on the bus back to Crowley’s flat, and maybe they could finally- well, Crowley didn’t want too far ahead. But _that _plan was shot to hell as soon as Crowley saw that the restaurant was closed for a charity event. It would have been easy enough for them to sneak in there, but then he would have to watch as the angel made his way through the “charity donors” (most of whom were just there to flaunt their wealth, but Aziraphale didn’t need to know that) and Crowley would have to entertain himself by making the rich people suffer through slightly messed up food orders and an unfortunately popped button or two. But tonight, Crowley didn’t feel like sharing the angel with anyone.

That left Crowley with one option, one that he had been guarding in the back of his mind for almost sixty years. Aziraphale had been the one to suggest it, all those years ago. But Crowley had never thought it would actually happen. He had hoped, of course he had. Had imagined every possible way this could go.

“Crowley, you don’t have to do all this.” Aziraphale had unfortunately been with him as his plans had utterly failed, and had been oddly quiet the whole time. “We can just go back to the bookshop and-”

“No,” Crowley interrupted him, “I’m taking you up on your offer. I know a place.”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to. What offer?”

“Soho, 1967. You said we could go for a picnic.” _Along with other things._

“Oh.”

Crowley grabbed the nearest cassette he could get and put it in the player, gritting his teeth as Freddie Mercury began to croon about the _crazy little thing called love._ Aziraphale pulled out a small book from a pocket and began to read, absentmindedly tapping one finger on the cover. Crowley forced himself to look at the road, pressing down on the gas pedal.

This was going to be a long drive.

The country landscape flew past them as Crowley drove them down the open road. The rain had stopped and the sun had begun to shine again, changing colors as it began to set. The orange light covered the countryside, casting the rolling green hills in deep shadows. They had been driving for about an hour and Crowley had turned off the music about ten minutes ago, not sure if he could handle any more singing about broken hearts and good old-fashioned lover boys. Aziraphale had set his book down and was looking out the window, oblivious to Crowley staring at him. He couldn’t help it, he was a demon after all, he was supposed to encourage temptation. And Aziraphale was the biggest temptation of them all. The light from the setting sun caught on Aziraphale’s curls, illuminating the tips of his hair and giving him a fuzzy halo. Crowley couldn’t look away, which was unfortunate, as that was the moment that Aziraphale turned to face him, and caught Crowley staring at him.

“What is it my dear?” Aziraphale smiled and _bless it, _the light caught Aziraphale’s eyes, enhancing the already inhumanly blue color.

“I- it’s just- er, what book are you reading?” _Stupid._

“An older version of Shakespeare’s sonnets.” Aziraphale patted the cover lovingly. “From _before _that dreadful man changed all the pronouns. Really, that was quite rude of him.” Crowley made some noncommittal noise and they continued on in silence.

“Do you have,” Crowley started after a few minutes of silence, “Do you have sonnet 29?” Aziraphale smiled softly, opening up the book.

“Yes, I do believe I have it here.”

“Can you…read it to me? I’ve always liked that one.” Well, _liked _wasn’t quite the right word. It was the sonnet that Crowley had always thought was a bit of a mockery, far too true and personal. Too similar to words he had written and then hidden in the centuries past. And now he was going to hear Aziraphale read it to him. _Why had he suggested that?_

Aziraphale began to read, his voice clear and more beautiful than any of the heavenly choirs.

_“When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,_

_I all alone beweep my outcast state,_

_And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,_

_And look upon myself, and curse my fate,”_

Crowley’s only sin was asking questions. He had never truly meant to Fall. All he had ever wanted was answers. He dropped one hand from the steering wheel, clenching it in a fist next to his leg. Aziraphale continued speaking, oblivious to Crowley’s thoughts.

_“Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,_

_Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,_

_Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,_

_With what I most enjoy contented least;_

_Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,_

_Haply I think on thee, and then my state,_

Crowley had thought about the angel far more than he cared to admit over the millennia. Had thought about the way that Aziraphale's eyes lit up whenever he had a new book, about his drunken rambling that Crowley could listen to all day. And, when he was the most upset, the most vulnerable, he thought about the times he had helped Aziraphale. The fall of the Bastille was always one to revisit.

_"Like to the lark at break of day arising_

_From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;”_

Crowley spoke, finishing the last two lines.

_“For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings_

_That then I scorn to change my state with kings.”_

Aziraphale closed the book, staring at him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Aziraphale reached up and removed Crowley’s glasses, setting down gingerly on top of the book.

“Oh, _Crowley._”

Aziraphale took his fist from where it was resting on the seat, Crowley unclenched his fist and let Aziraphale intertwine their fingers the same way he had on the bus the evening the apocalypse hadn’t happened. Crowley felt his cheeks turn red. He looked at their hands, then at Aziraphale, who was staring at him expectantly.

“Angel-”

“Crowley, I’m- I’m ready to catch up with you.” Aziraphale smiled, his cheeks flushing pink slightly. Crowley squeezed his hand before turning back to face the road. He pressed the gas pedal down, pushing the Bentley faster.

Crowley was done going slow.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Shakespeare's sonnet 29.  
I hope you guys liked this one!


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